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Friday, May 13, 2005

A Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of That

Haloscan is a Haloscam

That's right folks you read it here first. I had to send the blood sucking bastards at Haloscan 12 bucks to keep track of my comments. I've said before, you get what you pay for. Why would I expect a free service not to suck? Maybe because I am a fucking idiot.

So today I sent the pricks my 12 dollar "donation". Of course, in my mind a donation is something you offer or give because you feel compelled to do so. Donations are not supposed to be obligatory.

If you put your faith in a free service without reading the fine print, like I did, know that they hold your comments hostage after four months. You don't pay the 12 bucks, you never see your comments again.

Also, as you may notice, after 200 comments on this free service, they stop counting. I can only assume that they let the Jessica Simpsons of the world keep track of the free accounts because counting beyond 200 is unpossible!

What's even more stooopid, they can't find a way to keep track of more than 800 comments even if you do give them 12 bucks. So even with a paid account these fucking morons can't find a way to display more than 800 comments. I got your fucking donation right here!



Lois ranting? What is this world coming to? Yes it's true, I get pissed off once in a while (and pissed on, see yesterday's post). Now that I've posted my first real live rant, I feel a whole fucking lot better.

As you may have already guessed, my sleep last night sucked again. This cold is kicking my ass. No that doesn't mean a poop sneaks out when I cough, silly! I'm still just pissin' away, coughing every three minutes or as soon as my body gets in a comfy position.

I'd like to thank all of you cough/sneeze/laugh pee ladies out there for sharing your stories in the comments yesterday. MPP (Miss Pissy Pants) club members unite and don't forget BYOD! (Bring Your Own Depends)


Hollaback Girl!

Mr. Kiss This Guy, AKA Mr. Lane, strikes again. We had yet another discussion about lyrics over the phone a couple days ago. Yeah it's something we do quite often.

I told him to hold on as I put Lane 2's hair up. Even with the phone sitting on the table, I could hear him singing his crazy little heart out.

I picked the phone back up and said, "You're really jammin' aren't ya?"

"I Ain't No Harlem Black Girl," he sang happily.

Trying to contain myself was impossible. I belly laughed so hard I buckled over, rocking forward and back like Rainman anxiously awaiting Wapner. When I caught my breath, I made him repeat the words because that was just way too funny. The song continued to play on his truck stereo as he sang again, "I Ain't No Harlem Black Girl."

For those of you who do not know what song I am talking about, it's called Hollaback Girl. And while the real lyrics make little to no sense, Mr. Lane's rendition was still wrong. Funny as hell but wrong.

The songs full lyrics can be found here.

The song does have an inner-city, Afro-American sound to it but Gwen Stefani, the singer, is not black and I guess I could kind of see why Mr. Lane thought that's what she was singing. Kind of.

I couldn't stop laughing at him.

"Come on Lois! Why must you make a fool of me?"

"Oh, babe, you know I'm not making a fool of you! You do that on your own. I love your singing! You go on wit yo bad self home fry."

"Well then what is she saying?"

"I ain't no Hollaback Girl," I said through my coughing/pissing giggles.

"What the fuck is a hollaback?"

I went to my computer and did a quick search because I had no idea. Urban Dictionary told me there were 20 possible definitions submitted by various people. While many of them were funny, the ones that made the stupid song make a little more sense said, "A Hollaback Girl is a chick who takes no shit. She won't have a shouting match, instead, she will kick some ass."

After learning that, I kind of like Mr. Lane's version better.


Aged To Perfection

When you leave here, I would like for you to stop by my friend Katey's. She is one of the lovely ladies I met last month. Today is her birthday and she is going out of town. I'd love for her to come back and be swamped with comments and birthday wellwishes.

Now where did I leave that full frontal nude photo of that corporate peon? Ah, yes, right here.